


Sleep Well Again

by GasterFan5



Series: Gravity Falls [10]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Did I mention Stanley's Self-Harm?, Gen, I like to torture Stan don't I, Nightmares, Oneshot, Pain, Stangst, hello, took too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasterFan5/pseuds/GasterFan5
Summary: Stanley Pines has always had nightmares. He just hid it well. When Ford comes back, his anxiety increases and he feels the need to check on him. It doesn't turn out well, and so he decides to hide it away. Bad idea. Then they bond a bit, yay. .w.





	Sleep Well Again

The first time Stanley had a nightmare-correction, after Ford came back-was almost the second day he had arrived. Yeah, pretty quick to lose your mind. Haha, he’d lost his mind a long time ago.

He sighed, getting into bed and falling into a peaceful sleep quicker than normal. For two seconds. _Ford falling through the portal. It wasn’t much, but the one journal helped him gain ground on getting him back. Trying the portal. It shutting down, him collapsing and screaming at the demonic thing._

Stanley awoke with a start. “Was the last thirty years just a dream?” he whispered, trying to deny it in his head. He just fell asleep for hell’s sake! Or did he? Still, the idea…What if…what if Ford was gone? His heart beat a mile a minute, and he decided on checking. Just to be sure. Yeah.

With that in mind, he bolted down the stairs, finding that Ford was sitting down on the couch, fast asleep. Relief flooded through him, and he knew his dream wasn’t true. He watched him for a moment, and was about to turn back when Ford woke up.

“What the hell, Stanley?!” Ford screeched, backing up on the couch with a face full of disgust. His paranoia didn’t change, then. Ah, the old habits die hard. “You don’t watch people sleep!” he finished, getting up and slapping him on the side of the face. (It wasn’t the first time his brother hit him, and hey…it seemed like it made sense to him, as he was always attacked. So.)

He flinched, recoiling backwards and looking up at his older brother. Lesson learned, he supposed, tears rolling down his face. Another hard slap on the side of his face and Ford seemed done, sitting back down with anger rolling off of him, facing the other side with a cold glare showing he wasn’t in the mood to chat.

Stanley’s breath hitched, and he staggered back up the stairs, then sat in his bed with a sigh. The small knife on the side table made him cry harder, and he picked it up. It was a perfect weight in his hands, the perfect knife. _Slash._ Stan dragged it across his forearm quickly, making small, angry cuts. _Slash, slash. Slash._ He didn’t stop until they all bled, and slowly his breathing returned to normal, and his tears stopped falling. He felt numb, like that one temperature outside that’s not hot, cold, or warm, it just is. That’s what he felt like; empty.

Watching the blood drip down his arm for a minute, he decided sleep wasn’t a good idea for that night.

~Guilt~

The second time he had a nightmare, it was that Ford died. It was that he had been attacked by Bill, and didn’t make it out unscathed, to die at their own house.

_“I’m so-” he started, coughing up blood. It poured down his face in a graphic way one could only imagine that has seen it before. “God, it’s all your fault I’m dying,” Ford said with a chuckle. They walked into the shack, and he collapsed at the door. **Your. Fault. Your fault your fault your fault-**_

_**y** _

_**o** _

_**u** _

_**r** _

_**f    a    u    l   t .** _

_**I’m sorry-** _

_But he was gone._

He woke up again, tears streaming down his face. What was he supposed to do? Stan could go downstairs and check on Ford, to be punched in the face. Or…attacked…again. He shivered at the thought. No, that’d make him mad, and he didn’t want that.

So he stayed up all night, heart racing and feelings of anxiety lingering throughout the hours. His thoughts lingered, questioning his sanity and the health of his brother simultaneously. He’d cut until he bled on his good arm, or the arm he hadn’t attacked last night. It still felt god-awful, the stinging not very welcome. But it was better than checking on the man who hated you, right? Right. Right. That’s what Stan wanted to believe, staring down at the blood trickling down his arm again, a repetition of the previous night. Maybe this was what nightmares looked like.

~How Much Longer?~

The third time, he’d dreamt of Ford and Dipper playing that stupid DDnD, taking a break, and going out solo to fight some stupid monster.

_“I didn’t think you would penetrate that cave so fast,” Ford started, smiling and starting up the second half. Dipper smirked, looking up and he wouldn’t have left, if his stomach didn’t start to rumble in hunger._

_“Uh, Ford, mind taking a break for lunch?” Dipper asked, putting the graphs down, along with his pencil._

_He nodded, getting up and ignoring the mess. “Good idea.” The pair ate something quickly. A sudden scream came from outside, following the ground quaking from heavy footsteps._

_“What is that?!” he started, a confident smile written on his face. Dipper followed him outside, and they saw a large, hairy beast. It had some sort of brown fur, and ravenous, sharp teeth. Yellow eyes saw through the darkness._

_“Hello, I’d like to ask a quest-” Ford was cut off by the monster, who roared and bit into his side. Blood pooled around the area, and it dripped to the ground. The terror in Dipper’s eyes seared in Stan’s mind as he turned back to the shack before suffering a similar injury on his back._

_“It’s all your fault,” he whispered in a traumatized way. Ford synchronized with him, the duo repeating the words until screaming in his ears. “ALL YOUR FAULT!!” they screamed, so loud_ he woke up, grasping the sheets.

Damn, that was…too real. And hey, last time…didn’t work out well. He felt the stinging reminder of the cuts on his arms, shivering. Okay, one last time…check on them one last time to put your mind at ease and never do it again. Sounded fair, yeah.

With that he flew out of his room and to the stairs, skidding across the wood. _Grab the railing, run down safely-_ Stanley missed the railing in his blind panic and the speed, tumbling down the stairs. He rolled down the flight of stairs, hitting his head on the couch’s wooden legs. Stan winced, rubbing the back of his head and remembering why he came downstairs.

Stan jumped up a little too fast, staggering on his feet and spinning to the couch. _Ford wasn’t there._ He choked up, turning around to face their kitchen and-

Ford was standing, leaning over the kitchen counter with a mug in one hand and a navy-blue robe on. Dark bags encircled his eyes, and Stan thought his own issues were meaningless compared. He was standing there, watching Stanley with some sort of a glare.

Plagued with the memories of his angry father and last time he’d checked on Ford, tears sprang to his eyes. Terrified, Stanley ran up the stairs faster than he’d came down.

“Stanley?! W-wait-”

But he was already back up, racing to Dipper and Mabel’s room to ensure they were safe as well. Stan remained at the door frame for a moment, unsure. What if…What if he wasn’t in there? He cowered, trembling in fear before sucking it up and taking a peak. Relief washed over him when he noted they were both there.

Energy taken away from his anxiety, he slowly walked to his room to find Ford standing at his door. “What do you want?” he tried, attempting to seem annoyed and rough.

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

Stanley froze for a second, then shook his head, reaching to his door. “I don’t know why you would think that.” Ford took his hand and put it down.

“Because it’s obvious with the panic that was written on your face,” he stated plainly, dragging himself into Stan’s room.

“What’re you doin in my room?” Stanley asked, running to keep up with the man. Ford stared at the bloodied knife on his bedside table. He took it in his hands.

“Taking stuff. Spending the night in here,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry for my actions yesterday. I just-Sometimes…it feels like I’m still there.” Stanley looked at him sympathetically, while still trying to grab the blade from his brother. He accidentally shook his sleeves down, revealing the gashes littering both arms.

 _“Shoot,”_ he thought, trying to cover it up. Too late. Ford noticed, dragging the sleeves back up his arms.

“What is this?” he asked, looking them over. Ford’s been hurt plenty of times, but never by himself.

“Nothin, really…Nonna your business, anyhow,” Stanley stammered. Ford frowned, taking the blade and hiding it in his pockets.

“None of that crap. It’s damn well my business if you’re harming yourself!” he nearly screamed. Stanley shushed him, wishing for the kids not to wake hearing the problems their grunkle had.

“Shh! Keep-keep it down,” he whispered.

“Fine, we might as well sleep,” Ford replied, still angry a bit, pushing his brother into his own bed. Ford crawled in beside him, hugging him from behind. The pair stayed like that until sleep came.

_Emptiness. There was nothing. No shack, no house, no people. Just darkness. He turned. Darkness. He looked up and down. Darkness. He tries moving-he can’t, he’s stuck. Stanley’s stuck, tugging at an unknown force._

_The doors opening to reveal a crack of light. It terrified him. The people coming closer and closer, closing the small distance and-_

Stanley woke up with a gasp, tears streaming down his face. Ford woke up to hear him sniffling and his muffled cries. He stroked his hair. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re alright now,” he whispered like Stanley had done so many times in the past.

Stan shivered, and slowly, the tears stopped. He whispered, “Thank you, Ford,” before falling asleep again, dreaming of nothing.

“No problem,” Ford whispered back, hugging him a bit tighter and falling asleep himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! I'm glad I kept you guys for so long. Hahaahahaha. Well, anyways, criticism is always welcomed! I enjoy hearing your comments, and anything wrong going noticed allows me to improve.


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